


Conduit

by tristesses



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Burning, Consent Issues, F/F, Fear Play, Force Bond (Star Wars), Humiliation, Inappropriate Use of Lightsabers, Masochism, Mind Reading, Object Insertion, Sadism, Shame, Temperature Play, fem!Kylo Ren
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 12:08:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10639545
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tristesses/pseuds/tristesses
Summary: In which Kylo Ren loses control.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [furchte_die_schildkrote](https://archiveofourown.org/users/furchte_die_schildkrote/gifts).



> I too adore fem!Kylo, so I just had to write this. Also, I kept Kylo's name as Ben because no one said it has to be a gendered name in the Star Wars universe. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

The creature in the mask crawls through the woods on its hands and knees, dripping blood in its wake. Its black-gloved fingers spasm, clawing scars in the snow; its breath rasps through the mask like the sound of rust scraping against metal. Its pace is slow and jerking, but it doesn't rest, it will not stop. It is coming for her. She turns her back on it, though her instincts are screaming— _never turn your back on a predator_ —and runs, leaping from snowbank to snowbank like they're the sand dunes of her childhood. She slips and looks down and clamps her mouth shut on a shriek— _don't let it know where you are_ —as the snow turns to sand and she trips and sprawls, rolls to her back, and the creature is looming there, unmasked. Rey bares her teeth, savage, feral. Kylo Ren gazes down at her with dark, soulless eyes, long hair wild, scarred face as expressionless as the mask, her flickering red lightsaber in her hand, and she says, _Rey._

The name echoes in her head as Rey jolts awake, a bitten-off gasp choking in the dead silence of the ship. Her heart pounds with the same intensity and fury it had during that fight in the snow, the throb of her pulse filling her ears, quivering in her fingers. She clenches her hands into fists and breaths slowly, purposefully, falling into the meditative patterns Master Luke taught her on Ahch-To. 

Just a dream. Just a dream. Never mind that she can still feel the cold bite of the snow on her palms; never mind the taste of blood in her mouth and the scent of charred skin still caught in her nose, or her perfect recollection of the mingled looks of anger, pain, and exhaustion on Ren's angular face as she pounded at her bowcaster wound. Rey is not trapped in that forest with her rage and Kylo Ren. Rey is here, on a WR-542 Shooting Star headed for Resistance headquarters, several tons of sophisticated weaponry in the cargo hold and a very special datachip on a chain around her neck.

No point going back to sleep now. Rey swings her feet out of her bunk and prowls, silent as a loth-cat, through the corridors of the WR-542. She doesn't need to duck her head to avoid the low ceilings, or turn on any lights to find her way; her feet know the path to the cockpit. She makes her way there in darkness as black as deep space and slides into the pilot's seat by feel.

"Anything on scans?" she asks. The embedded droid brain rouses and hums, saying after a moment, "Scans show no irregularities. The coast is clear."

Good. She's taking a roundabout route to throw off any tails. It seems to be working.

Rey slumps in the seat and tries to forget the dream, but it sticks with her. Not just the memory of the forest, or even of Kylo Ren's haunted face and wild eyes, but the ferocity that boiled up from within her when she faced Ren, lightsaber in hand. She could have killed her. If the quake hadn't struck when it did—

Rey forces it from her mind and pointedly thinks about other things until her head aches with tiredness, but she refuses to sleep. She'll only have the dream again.

 

* * *

 

Kylo Ren sits in the cockpit of a stealth cruiser and meditates, eyes closed, cloaked in blackness. She had the dream again, during her snatched hour of sleep while her stealth cruiser sang its way through hyperspace in pursuit of one girl and a very important datachip: stalking the scavenger girl through the snow on Starkiller Base, dragging herself along the ground, half-dead but relentless. Her wounds are throbbing, her limbs weak; even through her many layers, the cold bites at her fingers, her hand on her lightsaber clumsy, but she knows she _must not stop_ , must not fail. Then she hauls herself to her feet, body screaming in pain, and she's on Jakku again, that _wasteland_ , slipping on the sand dunes, looking down at the scavenger girl, who's glaring up at her with neither fear nor mercy in her eyes, and she says—

There, Kylo wakes up, every time. She's had the dream a lot lately; she wonders what the scavenger girl ( _Rey_ , her mind whispers) makes of it. The bond between them is loose and unformed, malleable, full of potential; most importantly, Kylo knows Rey hasn't spoken to Skywalker about it—if, of course, she even realizes what the shared dreams signify, which she might not, uneducated as she is. It gives Kylo the advantage; face-to-face, Kylo will be able to take the bond and twist it into whatever she wants, regardless of Rey's wishes. She can make it a conduit directly into Rey's mind, ripe for the plucking, or shape it into a noose and drag her to her knees like a slave. Or—and this is what Kylo prefers—she can coax it into a hidden thing, a little splinter in Rey's mind that niggles and itches and reminds her of how beautiful the Dark Side could be, if only she gave in. Kylo can see how exquisite she would be, glowing with the aura of the Dark, can imagine what the two of them could accomplish together. She can imagine everything she and Rey could become, even those things she'd rather avoid thinking about.

The astromech droid beeps at her suddenly, and Kylo's eyes fly open to read the data crawling across her screen.

"At last," she hisses, and rises to her feet. The little courier ship she's tracking has dropped out of hyperspace; the scattered jumps and zigzags across lanes Rey has been making to lose her tail must be wearing on the hyperdrive. 

"Drop out of hyperspace and prepare for docking," Kylo orders the droid, and flexes her fingers, gripping the hilt of her lightsaber. She trusts in the cloaking technology on her cruiser to protect her from the courier's laser cannons for now, and once the cruiser has docked, it won't matter. _Rey won't know what hit her_ , she thinks complacently as she strides to the docking bay.

The ships edge closer and closer to each other. Kylo can feel the ripple through her ship when the tractor beam engages—small, and not the strongest, but good enough for her purposes. It pulls the courier in close—Kylo can imagine Rey frantically trying to reassert control over the ship and failing—and the docking clamps snap shut with a click that reverberates through the ship. Kylo braces herself at the airlock door, mask on, tunic and robes sleek, and waits for it to pressurize. Her lightsaber ignites with a crackling hiss. Beyond the door stands Rey, preparing herself for what she must think is an invasion. Kylo can feel her, a being of Force energy, and skim the surface of her thoughts: determination, cold anger, a delicious nervousness so sweet Kylo can taste it on her tongue. But no fear. That is—worrisome.

Kylo realizes this even as she opens the door, and then the battle is on.

The scavenger girl carries a new weapon, a double-bladed saberstaff Kylo has never seen before. This is the first thing Kylo notices, and the first thing that incenses her. What she'll do to the First Order intelligence officers who failed her so won't be pretty. She strikes like a serpent and her lightsaber skids off one of Rey's blades; the girl spins around and tries to hook Kylo's blade with her own, but Kylo is prepared, and parries effortlessly. Parry, strike, slash in from the side, and how strange it is to fight without intent to kill for a change. Rey is too valuable to the Supreme Leader to dispose of so easily. (And Kylo—Kylo wants her for herself.)

Then Rey lashes out with the Force, a neat V of sheer energy that crashes into Kylo's side and nearly knocks her to the ground.

"A good try," Kylo notes, gaining her footing again. "But so inelegant. Hasn't Skywalker taught you anything?"

"Lights out," Rey replies—nonsensically, Kylo thinks at first, but then the ship's droid drops the lights to 0%, and they're plunged into darkness. For a brief second, they hang there as if stranded in space, lit only by the glow of their lightsabers; Rey's face is fierce and bright, her form clean and her body lithe. Kylo's eyes flicker over her, noting each curve and line, and then Rey's lightsaber blades sizzle out of existence and she makes a run for it, her footsteps light and hard to track. Kylo sighs noisily through her mask and reaches out through the bond, pinpointing Rey's exact position and dipping her tongue into her emotions while she's at it—the determination is still there, hard as adamant, and so is the anger, which has gone icy and unfamiliar. And with it, some other curling ocean of emotion that Kylo can't quite identify.

She shakes it off and follows Rey's footsteps, tracking her through the darkness of the ship, only to trip over something Rey flung in her path—a hose, it looks like. She stumbles, undignified, and Kylo bites back a curse. A snarl is creeping over her face, twisted into a sneer by the scar Rey gave her the last time they fought. Rey's given her many scars, some like the one on her face, others more…indirect. Kylo plans to have her revenge for them, if— _when_ —she catches Rey.

Rey leads her on a merry chase, Kylo following her steps with lazy patience; they end up ultimately in the cargo hold, stacked high with crates and strange shapes draped in fabric. Kylo can only see a few feet around her in all directions, but she's not afraid, not of this scavenger from Jakku.

"It doesn't have to be like this," she says to the darkness, her modulated voice rising and falling weirdly in the emptiness of the ship. "You know what I want." A datachip containing all the weaknesses and vulnerabilities within the First Order's network, some things buried so deeply in the infrastructure it will take months to fix. Kylo can't let that datachip escape; can't let Rey escape. "If you give it to me, I'll let you go."

_Liar._

It takes Kylo a handful of seconds to realize that the voice isn't hers. Her whole body jerks and she whirls around, hunting for Rey, because surely the girl couldn't have taken control of the bond like that, she wouldn't have even known it was there—

_Stupid._ The voice in her head is scornful now. _I've known since you stepped foot on my_ _ship. There's something between us, isn't there? Something that isn't normal, even for Force users._

"I'll tell you more if you show yourself," Kylo promises. Her heart is racing, her mouth dry, body humming.

_Liar,_ the voice says again, and Rey pounces from her hiding spot on top of the crates and comes down on Kylo's back like an avalanche, whipping the hilt of her saberstaff around Kylo's neck and yanking back with all her might, crushing the gorget that secures Kylo's helmet. Kylo cries out as the shards of metal bite at her throat, the mask suddenly loose and spinning, cutting off all sight; she staggers and goes to her knees, dropping her lightsaber, trying to wrench Rey off her back. But for all the size she has on the girl—six inches taller and much more muscular—she can't throw her off.

_Use the Force, you fool,_ she thinks to herself through the rising hatred and panic, _counter her power_.

"You can't have the chip," Rey hisses in her ear. "I don't even have it anymore."

"I can take its location from you," Kylo rasps. "You know I can—"

"Just try it, _Ben._ "

The sound of that hated name ignites Kylo like nothing else could; she flings herself backwards like wild animals do, crushing Rey, but the blasted girl just plants her foot to the side and flips them over, her grip on the saberstaff around Kylo's throat like quadanium steel, and straddles Kylo with a knee in her back. Kylo whips at her with the Force, but Rey's skill is greater than she thought. She's unmovable.

"You were in my mind," Rey pants. "Always in my head. I dream about you, I can't even escape from you there—"

Kylo laughs, though it hurts scraping out of her throat and is muffled by the lopsided mask. "Haven't you realized what they are yet?"

Rey pulls the saberstaff back until Kylo gags, and says savagely, "I don't care. I just want you _out._ What do you _want_ from me?"

Without warning, she pushes into Kylo's mind, tearing and unraveling as she goes. She can't—she _can't_ , she has no right to be here, and Kylo fights it with all her might until sweat beads on her forehead and all her muscles are pulled so tight they cramp. Rey is merciless, digging through Kylo's mind in single-minded pursuit of a many-thorned answer she won't like when— _if_ —she finds it.

Rey touches upon it, nearly glances past, but then returns to that place in Kylo's mind and starts digging.

Kylo goes mad, thrashing on the floor, unreasoning fear and shame surging within her as Rey methodically shreds every humiliating fantasy Kylo has had of the two of them together, conquering the galaxy, throwing down Snoke and reigning supreme, murdering her parents and torturing Rey's for abandoning her and returning home to lie entwined as lovers—

Rey lets out a snort at that.

"You wouldn't enjoy it," she says, a snarl lurking in the back of her throat. She probes further: the two of them as lovers, Rey's hand in Kylo's hair, Rey's mouth on her neck—no, that's too prosaic, the phrasing too gentle. Rey with her scavenger strength wrenching Kylo's head to the side by her hair, biting at her neck until it bruises deep purple against Kylo's pale skin. Rey with her lightsaber ignited, singeing Kylo's bare skin with the tip while she laughs and Kylo writhes, naked and panting. Rey with her mouth on Kylo's cunt, Rey fucking her with a blaster—

"Or maybe you would," Rey concedes, that snarl still in her voice, sending goosebumps up Kylo's arms. She releases Kylo's mind, opens the conduit between them before Kylo can even catch her breath, and pours that unfamiliar emotion Kylo sensed earlier into it.

Desire plunges into Kylo and hollows her out, leaving her panting and shivering. Unfamiliar images cascade through her mind, strange slippery thoughts she reaches for and can't quite grasp: herself seen from an outside angle, Rey's angle, towering over the scavenger like she does in the dreams; then her again, this time naked, trussed-up and spread-legged on the ground with a red handprint blossoming on her cheek; her, restrained in the interrogation chair on Starkiller Base—

"You disgust me," Rey spits, but there is an eager undercurrent to her voice that belies her disgust. She knocks off Kylo's mask, then fists a hand in her hair and drags back, pulling her neck taut, baring her throat to the blackness of the cargo bay. Kylo struggles under her like a stuck fish, but Rey's knee on her back is a star of pain and when Kylo calls on the Force—well. A Force user must have the will to direct it, and Kylo doesn't know what she wills right now. "Lights 40%. I want to see your face when I put you in your place," Rey adds to Kylo.

Over the conduit, Kylo feels a spark of surprise and alarm from Rey, as if she can't quite believe what she's saying, but when she goes hunting for more, she meets a barrier strong as titanium, and nothing she can do will break it. Rey stands, keeping a foot on Kylo's back, where she could easily kick in her kidney. Kylo hears the buzz of her saberstaff as she ignites it.

"Turn over," Rey orders.

Kylo—Kylo obeys.

She rolls on her back, looking up at Rey, who is lit by the glow of her saberstaff to look like some kind of inhuman statue, an all-powerful being, the goddess of an alien species. She stares at Kylo in silence, the single ignited blade of her saberstaff humming. Then she brings it forward and holds it inches away from Kylo's unscarred cheek. Kylo barely breathes, fear seeping through her hindbrain, nearly reducing her to an animal state. Her ancient ape instincts are shouting to beware the predator. Her cunt is soaked. Kylo's mouth opens, and she tilts her head infinitesimally toward the lightsaber, eyes fixed on Rey as if in a trance.

"Take off your clothes," Rey orders, and the trance breaks. Humiliated, furious, and thrilled beyond belief, Kylo does. Layer after layer falls to the ground until Kylo is laying before Rey naked and trembling. Hoarsely, she says, "The things we could teach each other, if only you—"

"Shut up and spread your legs."

Kylo can hear the wet sound of her folds parting as she obeys. She closes her eyes and tilts back her head, as if that can somehow dull her shame as Rey kneels and touches her with calloused fingers, spreading her wide, stroking from her sopping entrance to the tip of her clit and swirling. Kylo makes a low noise—she refuses to call it a moan—and involuntarily spreads her legs wider.

"Open your eyes." Rey's voice again. Kylo's eyes open and snap onto Rey as if tractored there. The scavenger girl is sitting between her legs with her saberstaff unlit, staring at Kylo with hot dark eyes. She presses Kylo's legs even wider—Kylo's long legs are nearly perpendicular to her body now—and slowly presses the blade emitter against her thigh. It's hot enough to make Kylo hiss and jerk away; she can see the livid red mark on her inner thigh when she looks down. Rey grins, eerie in the half-light, and does it again, again, until Kylo is a twitching, gasping mess, her cunt throbbing more every time Rey burns her with the blade emitter.

"Let's try this," Rey murmurs, and expertly spins the saberstaff in her hands. The other side hasn't been lit for a while now, Kylo vaguely recalls; it's cool when Rey rubs it against her other thigh, and it's cool when Rey—

When Rey spreads her open and slides the hilt of the saberstaff inside her.

" _Don't_ ," Kylo gasps, but Rey ignores her. She thrusts the saberstaff lazily, and it rubs against Kylo in a dozen delicious, taunting ways. Her body trembles and clamps down on the hilt, and Kylo can only think, _If she ignited it she would kill me, she can kill me, she can—_ Defenseless, helpless, the fear threading through every part of her being, Kylo can't help but arch her hips and take the saberstaff deeper, humping it like an animal. She's making incoherent noises of pleasure, eyes squeezed shut and her arm flung over her face, as if that will somehow relieve her of her shame and desperation.

"Look at you," Rey whispers hoarsely. "Look at you, taking it so greedily. This is what you've been dreaming of, isn't it? This is exactly what you want from me."

"Yes," Kylo whines, and immediately shakes her head frantically, hard enough to make her neck crack. "No, I mean no, I don't—"

"Don't lie to me. You love it," says Rey, and puts her thumb to Kylo's clit. She rubs it in quick circles, merciless, even as Kylo keens and scratches at the ground and arches her hips. Another animal emotion is clouding her mind, pleasure cutting through the fear as her climax builds. She is whispering Rey's name, whispering it in the same tone she uses in their shared dream, " _Rey, Rey, Rey_ " over and over, and then she explodes like a nova, clenched around the saberstaff with Rey's hand between her legs.

"Look at me, Ben," Rey is saying, and Kylo can't even protest the hated name. "Look at me."

Kylo looks. Rey pulls the saberstaff from inside Kylo and licks the slick off it. Kylo groans at the sight.

"Good girl," Rey says, a trace of irony in her voice. She stands and yanks something from a chain around her neck. "Here's the datachip. Now get off my ship."

She stands implacably, like a statue again, and watches Kylo dress herself with shaking hands. Her saberstaff is still not lit, but Kylo has no doubt that she'd win any challenge right now; Kylo's mind is still in pieces. She takes the datachip from the floor and drapes its chain around her neck, then picks up her lightsaber and turns back to Rey.

"Go," Rey says. Kylo goes, still too shaken to question anything.

It's not until she's on the cruiser that it occurs to her to check the datachip. It's not the information she needs; the infernal woman switched it out on her. Kylo screams and rips out her lightsaber, slashing and slicing into the console. It spits sparks and crackles until she hits the power supply, which explodes, showering her with sparks and pieces of metal. Kylo accepts the pain, embraces it; what Snoke will do to her when he learns of her failure will be far worse.

_If_ he learns of her failure. Rey's courier has jumped to hyperspace again, but Kylo has the bond to guide her.

Kylo orders the droid to adjust their heading, and presses her hand against the burns on her inner thigh. They ache steadily; she revels in it. She makes herself sick.

"It's not over, Rey," she breathes. "Not yet."


End file.
